The Same
by The Smiling Shadow
Summary: There is good and there is bad. There is light and there is darkness. There are screaming fathers, and firing guns. There are trench coats and there are suits. There is brown and there is blue but in the end it is all the same.


The Same

There is good and there is bad. There is light and there is darkness. There are angels, and there are demons. There are trench coats and there are suits. There is brown and there is blue. But in the end it is all the same.

Positive and Negative. It's all the same.

You can try and see a difference, but when it all comes down to it, there is none. The difference disappeared a long time ago. They're just the same person, with two different faces. They're just the same person, in two different worlds.

They're just the same person, just different parts. They're just the same person, just different pieces that fell apart while falling from the sky.

They didn't even know it. They walked the same streets, and saw the same people, and saw it in completely different ways. They breathed the same virtual air, and felt it in two different ways. They lived their lives, and did their jobs. Questioned their existences, one defined by purpose, the other by longing. Their weapons, a gun, and a keyboard. And both wore sunglasses.

And they shared the same Matrix, and for a time the two had never crosses. Two parts of one whole, that were never meant to be one again. They didn't even know it. They didn't know they were only half, and perhaps somehow they could feel it.

But perhaps it began when the name was read from the computer. The next name, the next mission for the half that was part of the system. When Agent Brown looked at Agent Smith, and told him the name.

"Thomas A. Anderson."

And it was then Agent Smith moved his head at the name. Just a simple movement, that meant so much more. Even the mentioning of the other half made him twitch, and remember remnants of a time when they were one. But he thinks nothing of it. And the three Agents go to their next mission.

They didn't know it when they looked at each other. When Neo stared at Smith, and didn't know why, but felt just pure hatred for this program. The two did not want to be one again.

There the two of one stared at each other, and wanted nothing but the other to die, so that they would be the only one left. So that there will only be one.

One, just like Neo, just like his name.

One just like Neo, and Smith the name of many.

There is Neo, and there is Smith. But in the end it's all the same.

You may think all you want. You may believe all you want. Neo saved you, Neo gave his life for you and peace. Neo was the light. And Smith was the dark. But in the end they are the same. It could have been the name Smith would be the name you thank.

One is love, and one is hate.

Love Neo, hate Smith. Neo loves you, Smith hates you.

But in the end, love and hate are the same.

And in the end, both mean nothing at all. Because it is choice that matters, it is truly the only pure thing left in this broken world, a remnant of what it once was. A memory that only the eyes of the machines have seen. A memory they keep to themselves.

It is the choice. The choice that guides you, that drives you, that defines you. Red or Blue? Good or bad? Light or dark?

Know before you choose, that they are all the same.

One knows no time. He does not falter, he does not stop. A program that remains embedded within the coding, and the Matrix itself. An Agent who has been needed, who has had his purpose. Agents are part of they system, the system depends on them. Agent Smith, who has seen, who has been for years and years trapped in his own little prison, never understanding choice, never realizing he could run and they would never be able to find him. Never understanding his own potential. Never really wanting to understand.

And there is one, where time does not matter. The essence of The One is forever needed, forever to go to the right door, forever needed to restart the Matrix, purify it of all it's faults. Forever needed by both man and machine. Immortal in that way. The essence of the One who has seen so much, intertwined within the history of the Matrix. And yet only one of six loved the Trinity enough to give up the world for her. And it is this One that never wanted to be The One, who wished he had never chosen that name that burns both his and Smith's tongue, Neo... To never really understand why he is what he is.

And in the end they are the same.

Two that are needed, two that have always been part of the Matrix. Two that will always be part of the Matrix.

Two that make the equation. They must be together in life and in death.

But like everything else, life and death are the same.

There are trench coats, and there are suits, but they are really all the same. They fight for purposes barely different. To become free, and to protect those who aren't free. They fight. They fight, and it is all the same thing every time. They are the same, they just happen to fall into different sides of this war.

And Neo and Smith just had to fall on opposite sides to balance the equation.

There are two sides, but they are the same. There is no good or bad, there is no wrong or right, there just are two sides fighting in a war that was thought to never have an end.

Man and Machine are like Neo and Smith. They are the same in the end.

There is no difference between metal or flesh, steel or bone. There is no difference between skin or code. It the end it is the same.

There is no difference between the rain and the code.

No difference between The One and The Virus.

When you look into their eyes, you see they are the same. They're stares show you their pain, and their confusion. The strength they pull from the chaos inside them. The code inside both of them. They are both children of the Source, and you can see the white light of the Source inside them. There is wisdom in their eyes, the kind that only comes when you've lived more than one lifetime. The kind of eyes that have seen everything more than once, and know how the world works, how anyone works.

They're eyes are Brown and Blue, but they are the same.

Eyes that have seen everything. The death of many, the screams of the innocent. Eyes that have seen the alleys of the Matrix, and the tunnels of The Real World. Eyes that have witness the past, and the future. Eyes just like the Eyes of The Oracle.

Eyes who have seen pain.

A father that yelled, and made fists. A mother that just watched.

A system with rules upon rules, keeping him bound to the ground, keeping him from the sky.

It's all the same.

The yelling of a father, is the same as the firing of a gun. Different people throwing the punches, but the bruises still hurt all the same. The running and the hiding is familiar. The screaming is the same, even if it is begging for life, or begging for forgiveness. Either which, none of them get what they ask for.

There is a father that screams, and slams the door heading towards the car. Running away like he always does, probably going to go to his other woman.

"Bye, bye, Daddy." Little Thomas waves, covering his black eye.

There is a man in a trench coat running for his life. Following the sounds of a ringing phone, through the maze that are the hallways. He never makes it, as a bullet fires into his back.

"Goodbye, Mr. Davis." Agent Smith lowers his gun.

Little Thomas stands by the window, waiting for his Daddy to come back. Wondering what he did wrong this time, what made Daddy hit him this time. What makes Mommy cry when Daddy leaves. Little Thomas wonders if this will ever stop.

Agent Smith stands by the window, waiting for orders from the Mainframe. Staring down at those things, wondering what he's doing wrong. What made these things even try to run. What makes them fight. He wonders when they'll all be gone. He wonders if this will ever stop.

It's all the same.

Tommy sits in the back of the class, drawing pictures of men in trench coats on his papers. There's a list of names for this man. Eon, Chase, Nils, Neo... He taps his pencil thinking of more names. That's when the teacher starts yelling at him.

Agent Smith sits in the back of the car, staring at men in trench coats, running when they see the black Audi. A list of names circles in his mind, the names of rebels that now run from him. He taps his fingers, unknowing, impatient, and ready to start chasing them. That's when the Mainframe starts yelling orders at him.

Tommy stands alone at lunch, tall and skinny, like the fifteen year old he is. He's finishing who he has decided to call Neo. He's adding shading to the trench coat, and adding some gun holsters on the legs. Tommy smiles, he likes Neo's boots. Then he looks up to see them staring at him. They point and laugh among themselves. Tommy stares at them, and wonder what he has done. They walk away, still holding back laughs. Tommy stares at Neo, and wonders what he did.

Smith stands alone, waiting for Jones and Brown. He reloads his gun, just in case, the Rebel is already dead, he just likes reloading his gun. Smith holds back what seems to be a smile. Jones and Brown join him as they head back to the car, and back to the Mainframe, back home. Smith comments on how repulsive humans are, their blood goes everywhere after being shot. Jones and Brown then look over and stare at him. And Smith stares back. Then he wonders what he did.

Tommy twists around in his black clothing, his hand made to look like a gun, and starts making gun noises. He laughs as he jumps back on his bed, his computer buzzing with life. Tommy falls onto his bed, still making his hand look like a gun, as he toys with it, aiming it at the wall.

Agent Smith still has his gun out, as he stands above another fallen Rebel. He holds it, and twists around, toying with it like he usually does. Aiming at nothing but the wall, before placing it back safely in his gun holster.

It's all the same.

Tommy falls to the floor, blood dripping from his lip.

"You're just some weak piece of shit." Father tells him.

Tommy pants, staring at the blood he spills falling to the floor. He's shaking his head at his father, listening to mom cry in the other room.

"That's all you are. A waste. Just some lonely piece of shit."

Tommy wipes the blood, and closes his swollen brown eyes. He doesn't cry, he gave up crying long ago. He shakes his head.

"Bull shit." Tommy says.

Agent Smith falls to the floor.

"You never truly know someone, until you fight them." Seraph, the wingless Angel says.

And no matter how hard Agent Smith tries, the wingless Angel somehow escapes him, leaving him with only blood dripping from his lip. And his blue eyes staring at the blood.

"Damn it." Agent Smith says.

Tom sits alone in his room, his only company the computer, searching for hackers named Trinity and Morpheus. He stares at the other wall, drawings of people in trench coats, the different drawings of Neo, each better than the last. His hands are dirty, and tired. His pale skin stained with bruises. Mom's crying again.

He lowers his head. He hates this place.

Agent Smith stands alone by a ringing phone. He stares at it for a moment, considering where the phone leads to. The world outside this. His jacket stained with dirt and dust of this kill. He hands are dirty with blood and dirt. This will never stop. Over and over it is the same.

He lowers his head. He hates the place.

Tom grabs his stuff, loads it into the car, and drives away, running away like the father he once knew. He looks to the sky, and wishes he could just fly away.

Smith stops for a moment, before getting into the car. He looks up at the sky, and wishes he could just fly away.

Brown and Blue.

It's all the same.

Tom exiled from the outside world that he could never forgive. Smith exile from his own little world. Jones and Brown are not like him, they would never understand. Not even he understands.

They are just two that used to be one. They are just one person, living two lives, destined to be together some day. They are different and the same. One made of blood, the other of code.

They live in different worlds, but have seen them both. They haunt each other's dreams, and thoughts. They drive each other to their full potential. They stare at each other, and just want it to all end.

One depends on another and her love, the other only needs himself, and me, me, me.

But in the end it's the same.

You look at their eyes and you can feel it inside them. You can see the other in their eyes. You look at Neo and see Smith, and you look at Smith and see Neo. One cannot live without the other. They are an equation, they must be together.

They must be the same, but be different.

You look at those Brown and Blue eyes, and all you can see is pain, and power. You see scars that are gone now. You see words that will never be spoken. Emotions never to be shown.

They are the same.

And no matter what, it is the choice that matters. Their choice to be who they are and what they are. And they are the positive and the negative.

They are the person they always drew, and the thing they never wanted to become. Neo, and a Virus. They are the people that had to grow wings.

The people that had to be taught love and hate.

The people that had to learn which side of the equation they were.

Their destinies are different, but in the end they are the same.

One will save us all, the other will destroy us all. One will save us from the other destroying us.

They are bounded together, trapped as two that are one. It is destiny that they meet, and become one. That they become one again just like they were so long ago.

It is destiny that Neo goes inside Smith, and Smith goes inside Neo.

It is destiny that they die together, and become one within the Source.

They are the same.

They must be together in life and in death.

There is good and there is bad. There is light and there is darkness. There are angels, and there are demons. There are trench coats and there are suits. There is brown and there is blue. But in the end it is all the same.

llllllll

Dedicated to Keanu and Hugo, who I know have had some harsher times in their lives.

"They must be together in life and in death." From the wise words of Hugo Weaving.


End file.
